


Castles

by SoftLullaby



Series: Gwenna Hawke [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Abduction, F/M, Intimacy, Love Confessions, Sex, Swearing, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:50:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftLullaby/pseuds/SoftLullaby
Summary: Years ago, Gwenna had made the choice to send Grace along with other escaped mages back to Kirkwall's Circle. If only she had known then what she had wrought with such a choice...





	1. Castles: Part 1

_'Cause you took me there_

_And lay me on a broken bed_

_No air_

_And there_

_Were cobwebs_

_Falling in my hair_

_I swear_

_I would have died for you_

_But you left me there_

_Then all the memories_

_Came crashing down_

_The insecurities_

_By which you're bound_

_But still_

_I would have died for you_

_I would have died for you_

 

_"What has magic touched that it hasn't ruined?"_

 The words permeated the fog that was Gwenna Hawke's mind even as she fought to sit upright. Her head was spinning, the only clear thoughts the remnants and tatters of conversations held with Fenris. A man she had begun to love. And yet… was that how he saw her? All the memories, the tangled jumble of thoughts, and sudden insecurity drove a stake through her heart.

 It was figurative, of course. A literal stake would have killed her on the spot, and yet… Would that have been a kinder death?

 Not this death, the death which stole from her the will to live. She had nothing left. No family to speak of. Carver was gone, slain in the Deep Roads years ago. Before that, Bethany, acting as a hero, had been viciously cut down by an ogre. More recently, though… the death of Gwenna's own mother, Leandra, had cut her to the core. She truly had nothing left. So why then? Why continue?

 It had been Fenris, she realized. Her feelings for him had driven her steadily onward, and the thought that they might at last be able to be together. Yet listening to all these snippets of conversation in her head, how could she believe it to be the case? How could she believe that Fenris would accept that she was a mage?

 Nevermind that he had come to her and said such wonderful and amazing things; in the light of day, he had vanished. There was a gaping hole in her life, and not for the first time, Gwenna felt empty.

 As she moved to sit upright, she felt a stabbing pain in her arm and quickly sank back down to the hard ground beneath her. Ground..? Suddenly, she realized that she was not in the comfort of her own home. No, the ground beneath her was cold, hard, rather more like stone than dirt. And her wrists were bound by thick iron manacles, vicious spikes driven in on the sides to cause pain with movement.

 When had she left her home?

 Fear clouded Gwenna's mind and she struggled again to sit up. The agony pressed in upon her wrists and the plaintive cry ripped from her resounded upon dank stone walls, pressing in upon her with a taunting echo. "Oh, Maker…" she whispered, feeling the fear more acutely. She could not so much as move her hands, and that, she knew - that had been deliberate. Whoever had taken her knew she was a mage. They had taken precautions to prevent her use of magic.

 Never before had she felt so utterly powerless. She, the Champion of Kirkwall, a savior of those unable to save themselves, was unable to save herself. It was a cruel joke, a twist of fate.

 No matter how she longed to weep, she would not give her captors the satisfaction. She would find her way free. She had to find her way free. There were so many people counting on her. Though she strove for calm, her mind was flooded with panic. It crept in along the edges of her consciousness, like an insidious shadow, before she was entirely suffused in it.

 Breathing was almost impossible. Not knowing how she had gotten there - or where there even was - had made the fear far more acute. Her fingers curled inward toward her palms and she fought for the calm, reaching for it. Panic would do her no good; she needed to keep a clear head. No one would come for her. She would need to save herself.

 And yet she did not know if she even could.

 The spikes in her manacles prevented her from moving much; every time she did, the pressed deep into her wrists. The pain bit into her, incredibly intense. Even had she a repertoire of spells capable of setting her free, she could not access them. She was powerless, and whoever had taken the time to abduct her knew it.

 She let out a strangled cry as she collapsed upon the floor. It was agony trying to do anything with her hands - bravo to her captor for figuring out the one thing that could actually stop the Champion of Kirkwall from escaping.

 "I see the fight has finally left you," came a soft, unrecognizable female voice. "I wondered how long it would take, how low I could bring you. How much it would take for you to simply… give up."

 The young woman who approached was a tiny thing with dark hair surrounding a delicate, pale complected face, the bold purple tattoos standing out against the ivory of her skin. Tendrils of hair had fallen free of the haphazard tail she had gathered her hair into, and the look in her eyes was something crazed, almost animalistic, like that of a cornered cat having nowhere to run.

 It took a moment, but Gwenna finally registered who she was seeing. "Grace?" she whispered. "How..? Why..?"

 "You sent me back to that templar-infested hellhole," the young mage responded, her voice caustic and sharp. "You - an _apostate yourself_ \- sent me back to that… that place! Do you even know what it's like in the Circle, let alone _Kirkwall's_ Circle?! Do you know what they do to us? What life is like?"

 The mage began to pace, her stature belying her agitation. She fidgeted, muscles in her thin frame twitched with repressed anger. "Of course you don't," Grace hissed, rounding on Gwenna unexpectedly, dropping down to the Champion's level simply to take her face roughly between her own hands. "They lock us in our rooms, you stupid bitch. They treat us like we're already abominations, simply because of our Maker-given talent! And the fact that I would call it _talent_ as opposed to a fucking _curse_ is enough to have them considering Tranquility! And you! You would _allow_ that! You would _allow_ them to mentally castrate every single fucking mage out there, wouldn't you?!"

 "You are wrong," Gwenna managed to say, her throat choked with emotion. "I… I thought the Circle… That it was safer for all of you. I… wanted to protect you from the Templars…"

 "Oh, you self-righteous bitch!" Grace snarled, gouging her fingernails into Gwenna's face hard enough to leave streaks of blood, though eventually she shoved her fellow mage away. "None of what you did was to _protect_ us, so stop lying! You threw us to the wolves, but I'm done with that. I'm done with the wolves. I'm going to kill you slowly, and once I'm done with you, no one will ever recognize the woman you were. I'll make certain you feel pain, that you feel trapped. And now, with all of your fucking family _gone…_ no one gives a damn about saving you."

 A cruel smile twisted the woman's mouth as she stared Gwenna down. "The people you saved have abandoned you, _Champion._ "

 Gwenna closed her eyes against the rising tide of panic, feeling the tears threatening at the corners of her eyes, building within the tension in her throat. She felt as if she were drowning, in need of just a single helping hand, but Grace was right. In her own hour of need, no one was there to help. She had saved so many others, put her life on the line for everyone else, and in the end… no one cared enough to do the same for her.

 She had been abandoned.

 Aveline, Varric, Fenris… She had thought they cared enough to know when she needed them. She thought they were her friends. Aveline was like family, after all they had been through, simply to get to Kirkwall. Varric… was her best friend. The dwarf was someone she could relax around, and he brought out the less serious side of her. And Fenris… Maker, she loved him, and she had imagined he had loved her too. But perhaps he was right. Perhaps he had always been right.

 Perhaps everything magic touched was tainted, ruined in some way. Perhaps that even extended toward her, and that was why he had left her side. Perhaps that was why she was all alone now. Perhaps the people she loved were… afraid of her? Afraid of what she might become? Afraid that somewhere beneath the gentle surface lurked an abomination? That it crawled just beneath her skin, ready, eager. Thirsting for blood and flesh and other awful things.

 There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do, to convince them otherwise, no matter how she tried. Grace was right. In this moment, this agonizing moment - Gwenna truly had been abandoned.

 She took a moment to reflect, to _really_ reflect. To consider the life she had lived before that very moment. To recall the countless choices she had made, the people she had tried so desperately, so unfailingly, to save the world. She had tried, time and time again, to heal the rotten mass that Kirkwall had become. She had seen the infection, and wanted to cure it. That was her way, after all; she was a healer. She longed to _heal_ the world of its awfulness.

 But perhaps that had been an arrogant desire. Perhaps she had been wrong, so terribly wrong. Perhaps Kirkwall had never wanted the sort of balm she could offer it. Perhaps what they needed was more of Anders' form of healing. Perhaps it was an amputation they deserved, not this… bandage. Perhaps the infection ran too deep, so the worst of it, the most awful parts, needed to be severed.

 But Gwenna could never do that. She could never resort to such drastic measures. She believed in something better. She believed in a kinder, gentler route, not something so… violent.

 And look where the attitude had gotten her! Look what she had reduced the mages of Kirkwall to! Maker, what of Bethany? What if they had all made it to Kirkwall in one piece? Would Gwenna have convinced her younger sister to turn herself over to the Circle? Would she have pressed her into the very life that Grace and the others so ceaselessly fought? And what would have happened of the sweet, soft-hearted mage? Would it have tarnished her, just as it did Grace?

 And what of Gwenna herself?

 Grace was right, after all. Gwenna spoke of the Circle like it was the best place for _all_ mages, so why had she never turned herself over to the will of the Templars? Why had she stayed away herself? To save the infected city, or was it fear? Was it fear of what could become of her, should she let herself be caged? Or was it the caging itself? Was it the thought of being locked away like all of the other mages? Was that what frightened her so terribly?

 Yet, in the grand scheme of it all, did any of that truly matter? All that Gwenna had done, had it been in vain? Simply to see this single, awful moment, a culmination of all she had wrought?

 Hubris brought man to its knees, tarnished the Golden City, or so the Chantry taught. And Gwenna, a devout follower of the Chantry's teachings, believed it wholeheartedly. And in that moment… she believed it was her very own hubris which had brought her here. It was her own pride which had delivered her to this point.

 It was her own pride which had stolen everything from her, even those she believed loved her.

 She was only faintly aware that the young mage had knelt down in front of her again. She touched the blood darkening Gwenna's own pale skin, tracing it thoughtfully. "How does it feel to be brought so low, Champion? To know that you simply… don't matter anymore? To _anyone.._? That you are completely… alone?"

 "Oh, but that… That's where you are _wrong._ "


	2. Castles: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Gwenna believed herself lost and utterly alone, help arrives, and just in time.

_'Cause you took me there_

_And lay me on a broken bed_

_No air_

_And there_

_Were cobwebs_

_Falling in my hair_

_I swear_

_I would have died for you_

 

_But you left me there_

_Then all the memories_

_Came crashing down_

_The insecurities_

_By which you're bound_

_But still_

_I would have died for you_

 

_I would have died for you_

 

His blood boiled in his veins.

 It reminded him of a volcano, seemingly dormant beneath the surface, but the threatening carnage caused tremors, the scant reminder of what was to come. It was his anger, Fenris knew. It was the anger which was sparked by his discovery.

 The estate had been empty. He had gone there, wishing to apologize, to pour his heart out to Gwenna. It had been rough, so very rough, coming to terms with all of his feelings, but he had - he _finally had._ And now, simply to discover that she was gone? Worse, that _everyone else_ had been rendered unconscious with some profane affliction. And then the sheer madness when he woke them, only to discover…

 ...only to discover that no one even remembered what had happened.

 If Danarius hadn't already been killed (by Fenris' own hand, no less), he'd have thought the bastard behind this. And why not? Take someone Fenris gave a damn about to lure him into a trap. It was predictable. But with Danarius dead, who else could want to do such a thing? Who else could want to lure Fenris into such a trap?

 But he knew the answer, all too well. Any goddamned Magister would want him. Those profane markings had made him a target. And Gwenna… Now someone had taken her, simply to get to him.

 Now, Fenris paced. He loped around Gwenna's bedchamber, agonizing over what to do. What would he do? How could he go to her and risk slavery all over again? She wouldn't want that for him. She wouldn't want him to suffer, not even to save her life. And it tugged at his heart, realizing that was exactly the reason he _should_ look for her. Because she would never have put him - or anyone - in this fucking position. She deserved better than desertion! She deserved for someone to come for her, because she always went after everyone else! She was always saving everyone else, damn it, so someone should fucking go after her!

 Even if it meant he'd risk his freedom, Fenris knew he'd come for her. He would _always_ come for her.

 The resolution reached, he turned, mid-step, and lunged for the door. He let anger fuel him, hoping the path would be easy to follow. Hoping it wasn't cold by now, and all because of his indecision. If he lost her… If Gwenna was dead…

 Maker help him, he didn't know what he would do if that was the case. She had become so important to him, and all because… well, because why? Because she was _good_ in a world where nothing was good. Because she chose to use her magic to help, to heal, instead of bringing about destruction. She was a gentle hand in a world that hadn't known much gentleness. She, Fenris knew, was worth saving. Worth protecting. The rarest creatures always were.

 The front door of the estate crashed against the wall as he opened it with more force than he had meant to use and it shattered his reverie. It brought him back to the present, rooting his focus in the moment once more. His eyes darted about, searching for anything. Any sign.

 It took longer than he'd have liked, long enough that he almost let loose a powerful roar of frustration. But when the stain of blood caught his eye, first in the delicate handprint upon the door frame, then in streaks upon the stone path, he felt the heat drain from his body, replaced by an icy terror.

 In that small clue, he could picture it. He could see Gwenna reaching desperately for the frame, and her fingers clawing at the path, desperate but futile at the same time. And then unconsciousness must have claimed her; he could see it in how the streaks changed. Instead of grasping, her fingers had hung lifelessly.

 Fenris could scarcely breathe. Panic was beginning to set in. He forced himself to breathe, to shut out those wretched thoughts and what-if's. She'd be alright. He would get to her in time. She wouldn't be dead.

 He would make it.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

"Oh, but that… That's where you are _wrong_."

 Fenris clenched his fists at his sides as the words came out on a vicious growl. A mage. It was a fucking mage. Not a Magister, as he'd thought, but this was so much worse. This was a mage Gwenna had tried to _save._ Someone she'd given a damn about. Grace, that bitch. He'd known, deep down, that Gwenna should never have suffered the human to live, but she'd never had the heart for murder. Never had the heart for execution. And he wouldn't have expected it. It was her gentleness, her kindness, her compassion - those were the traits he so admired in her.

 If she'd ended the bitch's existence, that would have taken something from her. It would have changed Gwenna, and Fenris was loathe to let anything touch her, to shape her into something hard and cruel.

 He valued the woman she was, damn it, not the woman the rest of the world demanded her to be. His heart broke as he looked down, Gwenna helpless upon the ground before Grace. Yet the anger was renewed, with a cool vigor. Gwenna could never have ended the woman, but Fenris would. He would make certain this mage could never touch his Gwenna, ever again.

 He stalked toward Grace, taking advantage of her surprise. Her eyes were wide as she looked his way, and she looked ready to leap to her feet, even though fear had frozen her in place. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. Forcing it to shake. "No. You _hate_ mages. You _hate_ us! You wouldn't be here for her!"

 Fenris stopped mere inches from the pair, and his hand shot out to take hold of her throat, raising her off the ground as he stared her in the eye. "Wouldn't I?" he snarled, the heat of his anger a low, menacing thing. "She's nothing like you. She's worth coming after." He brought her close to his face, feeling her feet struggle to find a hold on the ground, but only managing to scrape its surface. "You're the one who's abandoned now."

 "Fenris, no…"

 He heard her voice, that soft, gentle voice of hers. Loved the way his name rolled off her tongue; it incited something delicious and warm within him. And yet, at the same time, he knew what she would say. What she would ask of him. _Spare her. It is not her fault._ But it was, damn it! This bitch knew full well what she was doing, what she was capable of. She needed to be put down, because she'd do this _again._ Gwenna would never be safe so long as Grace survived. It was the right thing to do. He knew it in his bones.

 And yet, he hesitated. He hesitated, because when he looked over at her, Gwenna's eyes pleaded with him, shining with unshed tears. Maker, he hated that look. Hated her tears. How could he possibly do what he knew was right when she was looking at him like that?

 "She has to die," Fenris managed, hating how cold and devoid his words sounded. Knew the lack of inflection to be a lie. "She won't stop hunting you. I can't let her live, knowing she'll hurt you again." Next time, he knew, he might not make it in time.

 It would have been easier if some Magister had been holding her hostage. They'd never have killed her before he arrived. They'd need the leverage. But Grace… this bitch had always intended to kill Gwenna. Fenris didn't matter. His presence wasn't needed. And if he failed to make it in time… She'd be gone.

 "I can't lose you, Gwenna." This time the whisper was broken. It revealed a depth of feeling. His fingers tightened around Grace's neck, and this time, he didn't wait. Didn't hesitate. Before Gwenna could speak again, he had snapped the mage's neck, and dropped her lifeless body on the ground. "I can't lose you," he repeated, looking anywhere but at her.

 The way her breath caught in her throat, he knew it had pained her. To watch Grace die like that… it bothered her. But then was his confession. Such simple words. He wondered what was going through her head, how she felt about them. How she felt about _him._ Maker help him, this was not the way he'd imagined this conversation!

 "Fenris…" Gwenna's gentle voice was unsteady as it reached for him, and slowly he took his eyes toward her. "I… I cannot move. Please…" There was something in her eyes, a need. It took his breath away, and for a moment, he could not so much as think. And yet when she brought her hands up, showing him the wicked manacles which had ensnared her small wrists, he felt the rage with him. "Please help me…"

 She did not have to ask him twice; in moments he was by her side, kneeling down, fingers gently removing the accursed bindings. He felt the anger rise all the more within him at the gouges caused by the damn things. So much pain she'd had to endure, and all for someone she'd tried to save. Someone she would have saved yet again, even at the expense of her own life.

 The thoughts melted away as suddenly, unexpectedly, Gwenna threw her arms around Fenris. He could feel her small frame shaking, and he slid his own arms protectively about her. "I'm here," he said, whispering into her soft hair before he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "I'm here. I'll always come. I swear it."

 She let out a strangled sob and suddenly they clung to each other in a tangled embrace, his lips seeking hers, a demanding, desperate thing. A kiss that was so much more. It was a thing which devoured the two of them, left them helpless in its wake, and yet neither of them desired anything less. It was a wealth of unbridled emotion, the pair desperate for one another. It was different than before. This was their surrender. Not simply to how their bodies' need, but to something so much deeper than all of that. Something they knew the word for, but yet, even that word was not enough. It would never be enough to describe the depth of feeling they had for one another.

 Soon their hands were discarding what clothing lay between the two of them until they were a warm, naked mass, limbs twined about one another. Their lips were locked in an impassioned, desperate embrace, tongues embroiled in a tempestuous dance of their own. Fenris' lean, lithe frame was powerful compared to the softness that was Gwenna, and when he lay her back upon the ground, he managed gentleness. Nevermind the ferocity which built within him - he longed for this to be beautiful. She deserved beautiful.

 For the briefest of moments, Fenris' lips fled from Gwenna's, and the disappointed sound she made died in the back of her throat as he whispered, "I love you, Gwenna." He didn't wait for her response, he already knew. In his heart, his soul, he knew she felt the same for him.

 Her body began to tremble as she wrapped her legs around him, urging something more. And then he knew… simply _knew_ … he was completely lost.

 The welcoming warmth of her body was like bliss as he brought his hips forward, burying himself in the sweetness she offered. Maker, it was like heaven… Last time had been beautiful in its own way, but this… this was so much more. It was as if they had finally surrendered to what they were together, what they meant to one another. He began to move, then, a slow rhythm, and he felt her breath catch.

 Gwenna released his lips on a gasp, her head tipping back slightly. He took the time to look down at her, the honey of her hair spread out upon the ground, a beautiful halo. Color had come into her face, and the brown of her eyes had become a smoldering, impassioned hue. It made him ache for her all the more, and he shuddered, his movements becoming uneven for a moment.

 Her arms and legs clutched him tightly and he felt her respond, her own body moving with his, a fevered need barely kept in check. "I love you," she managed to say, her eyes on his.

 A low growl issued forth from him and suddenly he could not reign in his control, not any longer. He dipped low, his lips capturing hers in something hot and full of a primal need. His hips ground into hers, plunging him deeper within the warm satin that was her body. Together, they climbed, passion soon stealing all semblance of coherency, until they shattered together, his cries melding with hers.

 As their movements subsided into tremors, he held her close, so close he could hear the rapid beat of her heart, rather like a hummingbird's wings. And for the first time in a long time, he knew he was home.

**Author's Note:**

> This event actually never happened in the games, but after another playthrough, I imagined Grace's hatred to be far more intense. So this is the scene which came to mind.


End file.
